Pulled Back
by ManyChurros
Summary: Head Archivist Piper Levin is pulled back into action. She blames the Secretary. She thanks Brandt. She learns to trust Ethan Hunt and his team. She has to save the world. And she has to let go of the past. Brandt/OC *BEING REWRITTEN* *Currently in Haitus*
1. Prologue

**A/N: Guess who is back? Anyway, if you haven't noticed, this story is currently being rewritten. Originally, I was going to write all the chapters, but why wait? More details at the end Author's Note. ****And if you didn't noticed, then just enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mission Impossible franchise, just my character.**

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><p><em>She walked carefully through the hall. Her gun pointing to the ground. Peeking around the corner, she saw no one.<em>

_She looked calm. The total opposite of her thoughts. She was worried, scared, and frightened. Not for herself, but for _him._ Her partner, her best friend. All because of her stupid mistake. She would never be able to forgive herself. Especially if something happened to him._

_She grew suspicious when she saw no one guarding the door. It couldn't be this easy._

_Maybe she should have called for backup. Maybe she should have waited. Just something else._

_But she couldn't. She had to do this. Now. And by herself._

_She went ahead. Walking to the door..._

**Ring! Ring!**

Piper Levin woke up with a jump, gasping. She sat up, and took deep breathes. Burying the emotions, and the tears, she pushed off the comforter. All emotions but annoyance. Glancing over her digital clock, she saw it was two in the morning. _Seriously, who calls at this time of hour? Work, probably._

She reached over to her nightstand for her cell phone. Without checking the caller ID, she answered with a professional tone, "Hello?"

"Levin, good to hear your awake." The Secretary, Levin realized.

"Well, I am now."

"Sorry for the disturbance," the Secretary said with sarcasm. "Anyway, I need you in Moscow by tomorrow morning."

"No can do. You know I just became Head Archivist. There's a lot to do."

"This is urgent. Big things have happened over there. I don't care how, just do it. If not, do it as a favor to me."

Seeing no way to argue, Levin agreed. The conversation practically ended there.

After hanging up, Levin threw herself to bed, groaning, "Even when I try to move on, I get pulled back."

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><p><strong>AN: Explanation time! I hit a major roadblock, writer's block. My answer was hiatus. I just wasn't liking where my story was going, and felt I could do better. So, I decided to rewrite it. Currently, I'm rewriting chapter 1. The story will hopefully be better and Levin will be flushed out. Also, a certain pair will have more backstory. *wink, wink***

**Also, I realized I should stop making promises about updating. I kept making them, and I kept failing them. This time no promises, but this story will be finished. A bare minimum would be once a month. This will also be to write other stories that I've been meaning to write.**

**Anyway, sorry for rambling. I hope you liked this revision of Pulled Back, so far.**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a mile stone for me. It's the longest chapter I've written. Plus, the first time I write a curse word. Never have done it before. Ever! *Deep breath***

**Anyway, here's the rewritten chapter. Sorry in advance for any mistakes. Tell me, and I'll fix them.**

**(Disclaimer: I do not own the Mission Impossible franchise or any of its characters.)**

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><p>Levin was lying on the bed, on her back, staring at the wall. She had got on a plane a few hours earlier, and managed to find a decent motel to stay in. After walking around the city for a few hours, she decided to come back to the hotel. She laid, thinking over the past 24 hours.<p>

She had called Assistant Archivist Tarrance, who basically does everything she can't and fills in for her when she can't be there, in the morning. Nice guy with a wife and kids; he was never cut out for fieldwork. Levin enjoyed messing with him and pushing his buttons. He had informed her that the Secretary had planned everything. In fact, the entire office knew, according to Tarrance. Levin was on leave; the reason was on a need to know basis. Tarrance would fulfill all of her duties.

Levin laughed just thinking about it. "Son of a bitch," she said aloud.

She glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. _It's almost time_, thought Levin.

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><p>"Sir, where are we going?" questioned William Brandt, the IMF's Chief Analyst.<p>

"We are making a small detour to pick up a friend," answered the Secretary.

Both men were in a black van with a driver at the wheel. Brandt had expected to directly go to pick up Ethan Hunt, but the Secretary had other ideas.

"Where exactly is this, um, detour? And who is this friend?" asked Brandt.

"You'll see when we get there. Now stop with the questions," responded the Secretary.

Brandt stayed quiet afterwards. He just looked out the window.

* * *

><p>The van came to a stop. It had stopped in front of what looked like an abandoned office building. The shadow of a female figure neared the van. The door to Brandt's left side opened and a woman entered the vehicle.<p>

"Secretary, you wanted to see me," said the woman as she sat at the seat across from Brandt. The woman had auburn colored hair color with tan skin and brown eyes. Her straight hair went just below the shoulders.

Brandt's eyes and the woman's met. Realization hit, and both of their eyes widened.

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><p><em>Agent Levin walked down the halls of the IMF Headquarters. She was preparing for her next mission. She was meeting up with -<em>

_She saw him. A man she never saw before, with brown hair and blue eyes. He was just sitting there; looking at the air. His mind was clearly somewhere else. A straight face on, but eyes that spoke another story. Pain. Regret. Guilt._

There's still plenty of time before the mission, _thought Levin._

_She walked up to him, a complete stranger. "Um, hey. Is this seat taken?" Levin gestured to the chair next to him._

_Barely registering the question, the stranger simply nodded._

_Levin sat down. She too looked forward. She had no idea what to do in this situation, never having the need to. _Just say it. "_What's wrong?"_

_The blue-eyed stranger's head snapped to her._

"_It's not my place. You don't have to say anything. It's just," Levin sighed, "it looked like you needed someone to talk to. Someone unknown without any prior judgement."_

_She would have continued, but he spoke. "It's fine, and you're right."_

"_What happened?" She fully turned to face him._

"_Just got back from a mission, where I had the chance to prevent something terrible from happening. I didn't take it," he said, looking down._

"_Mistakes happen," Levin said gently. It was clear to her that this man needed comfort, and she was there to help. This was her mission._

"_It just wasn't a mistake," the man snapped. "It was much more. I would tell you, but it's -"_

"_Classified," she finished for him. "I understand."_

"_I'm sorry for snapping. You're here listening to me. Probably on your way to a mission, and I've gotten in the way. It's just been so tough. Been thinking about quitting."_

"_It can wait. Right now, I'm here with you," she said, looking into his blue eyes. _His beautiful eyes, _thought Levin. "And nice observation, along with the interpretation. Maybe you can become an analyst." _So, I can see you around.

"_Yeah, maybe."_

_There was a silence. It wasn't awkward; it was warm, in a comforting strangers looking at each other. _

"_I might as well tell you. I was shadowing a couple, husband and wife. We had intel that said that someone was going after them; it wasn't anything we couldn't handle. I had this feeling that I should say something, somehow." He paused. The female stranger was looking at him, patiently. Eyes full of warmth. _ _He continued. "The husband was going out for a jog. I followed him, and I left three men._

"_Came back, my men and the wife are dead. I might had been to change, but I didn't. It's all my fault." Blue-eyed stranger's head dropped._

_Levin was in a mild shock. _He seriously just told me all of that. _But above, she wasn't exactly sure how to proceed in this type of situation. "I have no words. Yeah, you could have done something, put you didn't. Maybe it is your fault."_

_His head rose, with a small smile. "This is supposed to make me feel better."_

"_I said you needed someone to talk to. Anyway, my point is yeah, you could have prevented. You can't change the past. It's not matter of how much you can feel sorry you can feel about yourself, it's about moving on. You can't be stuck in the past. Here's is the present." Levin lightly hit the arm of the chair with her hand. "And more importantly, there is the future." She touched his chest, where is his heart would be._

_Brown-haired stranger's eyes fell to her hand._

_Levin reluctantly removed her hand. _Don't need this to get awkward.

"_I never told you my name. It's -" the stranger began._

_Levin held her hand up, signalling stop. "I never asked. I said that you needed someone with no prior judgement. Best to remain strangers,"_

_Levin glanced down to her watch. _Oh, shit. "_I've got to go. I agreed to meet up with someone, and I need to go to a mission." She stood. _How time flies.

"_I understand, and thanks for everything."_

"_You're welcome." She began to walk. She stopped and glanced back. "Good luck with things."_

_She continued to walk. _Don't expect to see him again, Piper.

_Time passes and things are never how we expect them to be._

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><p><em>There she was. Sitting there with her head in her hands, crying. Unconsciously choosing the spot they had been in a couple of months back.<em>

_Analyst William Brandt was going to meet up with the Secretary. But then he saw her, in the same spot he had been in._

_Brandt had taken her suggestion. Instead of quitting the IMF all together, he just stopped doing fieldwork. He became an analyst, and he was a damn good one._

The Secretary can wait. _He walked up to her. "Is this seat taken?" He remembered the brown-eyed stranger's first words to him._

_She looked up. Her eyes were red and puffy. Any doubt was clear, because she has definitely been crying. She tried to wipe her eyes with her hand once she recognized him. "No, not at all."_

_Brandt took the invitation to sit down. He checked his pockets to find a napkin. _How did that get there? _Handing it to her, "Here. You look like you really need it."_

It was time to repay a favor, stranger or not.

_She took it. "I've recently lost someone. He was really close, and I just don't know how to deal with it." She was dabbing the napkin into her eyes._

"_I know how it is to lose someone. It must be difficult."_

"_I've lost people, too. It's just that," she paused, "that it's never been because of me. There is no 'I could've prevented this'. I am to blame." Tears began to flow from her brown eyes,_

_Brandt empathized with this woman. He was there once. He still kind of is. He didn't want anyone else there._

"_Hey, hey. No tears." He took the napkin back. He wiped the tears himself._

_The moment became close, intimate almost. As he was finishing, the stranger said thanks with a small smile. At the same time, wondering to what happened to not getting close._

"_As you once said, you need someone to talk to, someone with no prior judgement. So, talk to me."_

_So, she talked. The words that she had never said before. The truth. Full of faults. One mistake. The end result was his death. A death that could never be forgotten, and never forgiven. A death of someone so close to her._

"_I wish I had something to say. There is no looking past it. He died. Would he want self-pity from yourself? It seems to me, having never meet him, he would want what's best for you; which is moving past his death. You just can't sit around. Continue your life, despite how hard it may be without him."_

_She let out a small laugh. He raised an eyebrow, not understanding what was funny. Here he was, giving excellent advice, and she's laughing._

_Once she calmed down, a smile remaining, she answered, "Do you know the chance of us meeting again? And in this particular situation? One in a thousand, maybe one in a million. To be in this same spot, and for you to just be happening to be passing through this exact hallway. Unlikely."_

"_Maybe you can be an archivist. You seem to be good with information." He remembered her suggestion._

"_I'm pretty good in getting information, too, if I say so myself." Things had become playful, teasing. That sour tone was gone. She looked at him. She saw a suit, not the type of clothing one would wear on a mission. "I see you took my suggestion." The amber-haired stranger gestured to his clothing._

"_I did. Pretty good at it." Brandt leaned back and threw his arms behind his head, making him look egotistical. "Thank you for the suggestion." He withdrew his arms. He looked into the stranger's cheerful brown eyes. At the same time, he saw pain and sorrow; a reflection of himself._

"_You're welcome," she said softly._

_Brandt's internal clock was ticking. He knew he was late. He knew his time was up. The brown-eyed, amber-haired stranger was to remain unnamed, and forgotten._

"_I have to go," he said reluctantly. His hand was in a fist, with his thumb pointing back. Brandt stood up slowly. "Do take my suggestion." _Maybe I'll see you around _were his unsaid words, that she never heard._

_He walked down the hall, no looking back. Brandt had learned that she had been right. There is no changing the past; there was no point looking bad. But he still lived with the guilt._

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><p>"I see you two have met," the Secretary smiled.<p> 


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: New rewritten chapter 2 is here! Sharing Time: Not exactly happy with it, but oh well. I just had to get it out there. Also, sorry for all the mistakes. Didn't thoroughly edit this chapter. *shrug***

**Not much else to say, except if you somehow failed to notice, the first two chapters were written. Forgot to mention this in the last chapter.**

**So now that that's over, ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, Chapter 2 of Pulled Back. *applause***

**(Disclaimer: I don't own the Mission: Impossible franchise or any of its characters)**

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><p>"<em>I see you two have met," the Secretary smiled.<em>

"We are acquaintances," Brandt explained. "We've seen each other around back at Headquarters."

_Not a lie, though I didn't expect to see him again,_ Levin thought. She nodded once she realized they were staring at her, looking for a response.

The Secretary nodded back, mostly in disbelief. "Well, just in case, this is Head Archivist Piper Levin." He gestured to Levin, before continuing. "This is Chief Analyst William Brandt."

_William? Nice name, _thought Levin, _though it's nice to know how well things have gone for him._

_Nice to finally know her name, _thought Brandt. _Piper Levin._

"We have one last stop," the Secretary informed. The began to move once again.

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><p>The van stopped. The door to the right of the Secretary opened. Ethan Hunt looked with his hood up in at the Secretary before climbing in. As he climbed in, he pushed back his hood, he greeted, "Mr. Secretary." He closed the van door. "I wasn't aware you were in Russia."<p>

"I'm not, not since the bomb blew up the Kremlin," responded the Secretary.

As he finished speaking, the van began to move again.

"Yesterday I flew in to accept an Order of Friendship from the Russian Prime Minister. Now I'm heading back to Washington to hand the President my resignation," explained the Secretary.

Ethan eyed Brandt and Levin, asking for who they are. Brandt looked up, who was before it avoiding

The Secretary slightly tilted his head towards each person as he said, "My Chief Analyst William Brandt and new Head Archivist Piper Levin."

Brandt stuck out his hand to shake hands. Levin turned her head to get a better look at Ethan. Instead of shaking hands with Brandt, Ethan checked himself for something. "A pen."

Both were confused by the sudden statement.

"A pen!" repeated Ethan, much louder.

Brandt took a pen out of his suit. He handed it to Ethan.

As he took the pen and began to draw on his hand, the Secretary asked, "Ethan, what happened in the Kremlin?"

Ethan, clearly ignoring the question, said, "Chief Analyst and Head Archivist, you say?"

Looking down, Brandt, started, "If you are implying that I made a bad call -"

Levin feeling the need to defend herself, she began to say. "Look, I'm just here because -"

He was cut off by Ethan. Finishing his drawing, "European male, fifties, 'bout 6 foot, one-eighty pounds, blue eyes. Who is he?"

He showed his hand to the analyst and archivist.

"Crude drawing," mumbled Brandt.

"Seriously, is that the best you could, Mr. Secret Agent?" she sarcastically asked Ethan. He gave her a look. She had the feeling that it said, _Really? That's what you're going with?_

"But from your description, it could be Kurt Hendricks. A hundred ninety IQ," responded Levin.

"Served in Swedish Special Forces. Professor of physics at Stockholm University. Specialist at nuclear endgame theory."

"He was asked to resign, because he was kinda crazy."

"Cobolt," mumbled Ethan, directing it to the Secretary. "You have to alert the Kremlin that one of their strategist has nuclear launch device. And one of his operatives has the codes to launch it."

"And what makes you say that?" asked Brandt. Levin leaned forward, interested in the answer. She was an archivist, she liked information.

"I saw him leaving the executive armory, bag in hand. He set off that explosion to cover his tracks. It could be weeks before the Russians know it's missing, unless we tell them."

"They won't listen to us. As far as the Russians are concerned, we just bombed the Kremlin. The tension between the Russia and the United States has this high since the Cuban Missile Crisis. And the blame, right or wrong, points to IMF." The Secretary pauses."The President has initiated Ghost Protocol. The entire IMF has been disavowed."

"So what happens now?"

"Now, I've been ordered to take you back to Washington, where the DOD will label as a rogue extremist and hang the Kremlin bombing on you and your team. Unless you were to escape somewhere between here and the airport, having assaulted Mr. Brandt, Ms. Levin, and me."

"Sir?" questioned Brandt.

"Um, what?!" questioned Levin. _He is not going to this to me._

The Secretary continued, ignoring them both, "You will then illegally scrounge whatever material you could from a back-up cache that I've overlooked, same cache where your team is waiting for further orders."

"Sir, you may want to -" interrupted Brandt.

"Secretary, are you -" began Levin. _He's actually doing this to me._

The Secretary raised his hand to stop them from talking. "Your will then disappear and this conversation, never having taken place, your intentions would be unclear. But if any one of your team is caught or killed, they will be branded terrorists, out to incite global nuclear war."

He took out a briefcase and took out one of many flash drives. He presented to Ethan.

"Your mission should you choose to accept it."

Ethan took the flash drive and accepted the mission.

_Damn it, Secretary. _It may have seemed like anger but it wasn't. In reality, for the first time in several months, Levin was afraid. Maybe she simply wasn't ready. Maybe she didn't want to deal with this again. But, maybe she was just afraid of making another mistake, afraid of the consequences.

"Ethan, you were my best and I'm sorry it has come to this, after all the sacrifices you've made. If we don't meet again, I just want you to know that I've always considered you a friend."

That was when the bullets began to fly in. They ducked down on the floor of the van.

"Stay down!" Ethan told. "Drive! Drive! Drive!"

One, two bullets entered the Secretary head, killing him. They all laid in the ground, shocked by his ground. The bullets kept going. One managed to hit the driver. Due to this, the van was in no one's control and fell into a river where the van began to sink into. Water entered the van. The three swam up to the little air in the vehicle.

_He's dead. The Secretary is dead._ No, Levin wasn't afraid, she was terrified. She was quite close to the Secretary, despite how much they would argue at times. Now he was gone, like **him**. _They just keep dying, huh, Levin? Snap out of this Levin! This is not the time. Calm down._

"Are you both okay?" asked Ethan.

Brandt nodded, while Levin mumbled, "Yeah."

"Take a deep breath."

They swam out the van through a window. Once they were all out, the bullets still continued to fire. They avoided them before entering the van the same way they came out. They swam up to the little air there was.

"What are we going to do?" asked Levin.

Ethan showed them a flare. "Wait here."

He then swam away.

"Where else are we gonna go?" Brandt said sarcastically.

"Yeah, we'll have a tea party."

They could see the light coming off from the flare from afar as well as it began to move. They looked at each other, before looking away.

"Did he just..." began Brandt, trailing off.

"Yeah."

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><p><em>Something ended that night, but something else rose out it, something much better.<em>

_Where the broken heal;_

_Everything dies, and starts again._

_And they didn't even know it._

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><p><strong>AN: Yeah, I'm sorry if you didn't like it. Thank you for reading, and see you next time!**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: So it's been awhile, huh? Yeah, I have no excuses, so this chapter is my peace offering. Please accept it. Plus, I uploaded on the release of Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation, so that's a bonus. Right?**

**And I don't own the Mission Impossible franchise by the way.**

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><p><em>He's gone. The IMF is no more. Oh no, Terrance. <em>Thoughts were racing in Levin's head. _No! Still not the time._

Levin wrapped her jacket closer. "Are we there yet?"

"Yeah, it's close," Ethan responded, glancing at her over his shoulder. She nodded, before turning her attention to the ground.

"What would that work?" Brandt asked.

"Why would what work?"

"The flare on the body. Why would that work?"

"Distraction?" guessed Levin, voice increasing in pitch with each syllable. She slightly cringed. She hated when she did that; it made her feel immature and young, something she never wanted to feel like again. She added a shrug when the two men glanced at her.

Ethan ignored her. "Why would what work?"

"The flare on the body. Why would that work?"

"Because it did work."

They began to turn. Except, Brandt began to turn in the opposite direction. Sensing this, Levin grabbed his hand. She tugged on it, pulling him with her.

"Thanks," muttered Brandt. He pulled back his hand back.

"How did you know that would get their attention?" asked Levin. The words spewed out of her mouth, trying to cover Brandt and her moment.

"I didn't, I played a hunch."

"Okay. Alright, so what was your scenario? There's a guy being shot in the water," they make another turn, "All of a sudden he decides to light a flare and swim around. What you'd assume they were thinking?" Levin could almost laugh at Brandt. She could tell the analyst in him was speaking.

"Thinking?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't assume they were thinking. I assumed they were shooting at anything that was moving." Ethan stopped walking, and turned to face them. "These guys aren't Rhodes scholars, you know?"

"It's really happening, isn't it?"

"It- They- The IMF is gone," Levin commented.

"Yeah."

One word. That's how Ethan responded, but to Levin, somehow, it seemed more than enough. The final confirmation. That one last nail in the coffin. It's all over. Emotion, tears, were ready to explode out of her.

Train whistle. That's what held her back, but not what contained her. She didn't even realize the others were moving, until she felt Brandt tugging on her hand. He said softly, "Levin, we're moving."

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><p>"There are too many damn poles," Levin muttered under her breath, lying on the ground next to Hunt and Brant with her eyes close. In those few ravishing moments that she spent running, she came to a plan: get out of here, check on Terrance, and then finally, dealing with her emotional… things.<p>

She heard a conversation being formed by Brandt and a British male, from what she heard, though she was exactly paying attention; at least, not until she heard names being said, to which she opened her eyes. "Agents Dunn and Carter, William Brandt, Chief Analyst, and Piper Levin, Head Archivist," Hunt introduced. There were some footsteps, which she guessed came from him.

"Analyst?" she heard a female say, while at the same time she heard the British guy say, "Archivist?"

"What? Got something against archivists?" Levin said, springing up from the floor to stand up with a hand on her hip. "And analysts," she added as she saw Brandt in the corner of her eye.

* * *

><p>A couple of hours later, a change of clothing, courtesy of Carter, or Jane - Levin wasn't sure yet, along with a brief conversation with Dunn, though he insists on being called Benji, and she was watching a recording of a maniac, while sitting on the floor with her arms wrapping her legs close to her chest.<p>

"How will the world finally end? It is my job to predict the unthinkable, to treat the death of billions as a game. After twenty years of this, I was numb until a new question crossed my mind. What happens after the end of the world? Every two or three million years, some natural catastrophe devastates all life on Earth, but life goes on and what little remains is made stronger. To put simply, world destruction is unpleasant, but necessary part of evolution." Levin heard a hiss, but she didn't look. "What happens then I wondered? When mankind faces the next end of the world? I looked to Hiroshima and Nagasaki, thriving cities, rebuilt from the ashes, monuments to the unimaginable, dedicated to the concept of peace. It occurred to me here that nuclear war might have a place in the natural order, but only if it could be controlled, only if it could touch every living soul equally."

_Human extinction necessary? I can see the logic, but it's a bunch of baloney._ Levin turned her head to Hunt as he began to talk. "IMF now believes that this man, Kurt Hendricks," he said as pictures of the maniac appeared on the screen, " is a nuclear extremist. Codename Cobolt. Today he was seen leaving the Kremlin with what is likely a nuclear launch device. A few days ago, Sabine Moreau killed one of our agents in Budapest and relieved him of Russian nuclear launch codes."

There as she the pictures of the woman, Levin caught the pain sigh that Jane Carter let out, she knew. _She lost someone_, but she shook those thoughts out of her head.

The screen changed again to a picture of the Burj Hotel.."Intel indicates she will check into the Burj Hotel in Dubai in thirty-six hours." With the press of a button, the screens had one picture of Moreau and one picture of a man. _Where _is _he getting all of these pics?_ "Marius Wistrom is a known operative of Cobolt. Wistrom is currently on en route to Dubai. For the launch codes to work, Cobolt needs the activation codes. He's sending Wistrom to buy them from Moreau," Hunt stated, gesturing from Wistrom to Moreau.

_Don't say it, don't say it,_ Levin pleaded in her head. "The Secretary," he paused, "is dead." _Thank you, Hunt, for reminding me of that. I really needed that._

"The President has invoked Ghost Protocol. We're shut down; no satellite signals, safe house, no support, or extraction. The five of us and the contents in this car is all that remains of the IMF. As of this moment, any action is unsanctioned, so if you want out, speak now."

"I don't think- I'm sure that-" _Since when do I stutter? Why am I stuttering? _Then before she stop the words, they came spewing out. "I need to make a phone call as soon as possible yeah," _Well, there goes that plan, but Terrance Tarrance, you better be safe._


End file.
